


Love Is A Strange Thing

by Arijana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Break Up, Brief mention of whiskey, F/M, It's not really a break up, You tell him how much you love him, a bit angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arijana/pseuds/Arijana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You write a letter to Dean before leaving him because you cannot live a hunter life.</p><p>(Chapter 1 can be viewed as a stand-alone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After what seemed a hunt that took forever to finish, Sam and Dean were finally on their way to the bunker. They were both tired and couldn’t wait to be home. Even though they sustained from calling it that because of a ever present fear that they would lose their home once again. But in all honesty, the bunker was the closest thing they had to home in a very long time. Their bodies and their minds screamed for a delightfully comfortable bed and a hot shower. But for Dean, there was something else. He knew that she will be waiting for him. A presentiment popped its ugly head in the back of his mind but he chose to ignore it. After all, things are finally looking good. After a very long time, he was… dare he say it, happy? He felt loved. Unconditionally loved. Her love was like remedy for all his scars. He didn’t need to be strong in front of her. He stood before her completely stripped of all his walls that he build to protect himself. Her love was like a sun that spread its warmth in the darkest corners of him, that he thought he could never show to anyone and yet, after seeing his lowest she still loved him.

Suddenly Sams voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

„You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?“ he said while a small smile lingered on his lips.

He might have showed her his soft side but he sure as hell wasn’t going to show it to anybody else.

„The only thing I’m thinking about is her rocking body.“ And oh, boy, does she has one.

„Aha, yeah, right“ Sam said kind of cheerfully and returned back to his book.

Dean shot him a quick sideways glance. Jerk.

Three hours later and they were pulling up in front of the bunker. As soon as they entered the bunkers garage, he noticed the empty parking place. It was 11 PM. Where could she have gone out at this hour when she knew they were coming back today.

„Looks like Y/N went somewhere.“ Sam said sounding as equally confused as Dean was.

„Where could she have even gone?“

„Maybe she went to pick some stuff from the market or something. Just call her. I’m going to the shower right this second. I’ll see you later.“ Sam said and walked away.

Yeah. The market. Dean pulled his phone out and hit speed dial. It went straight to voicemail.

„Hi, this is Y/N’s phone. I can’t answer right now, but just leav…“ Dean ended the call.

By this time red flags were already springing in his head. He stormed off straight to your shared bedroom only to be greeted with all your stuff missing and an envelope on the bed. He knew straight away. His stomach started twisting with uneasiness. Dean took the envelope, not wanting to open it, like maybe if he threw it away it wouldn’t be real. He took a deep breath while sitting on the bed and opened the envelope.

 

October 25th

Dean,

This is quite possibly the hardest thing that I have ever had to do in my entire life. But, I had to do it. Surely you must know that. I cannot do this, not anymore.

Love is such a weird thing, isn’t it? The way it makes you feel, the way it changes you from the person you were before you met the person that you love. Before I met you I never wanted to fall in love. Because I felt that if I ever do, it will make me weak. And to me, weak was something that I couldn’t afford to be. Thinking about it now, in this moment maybe it would have been better that way. Maybe it would have been better if I never even met you. Maybe it would have been better not to feel the shortness of breath I would get whenever your fingers traced around my skin or how when you smile at me I feel like my insides have disappeared and my entire body is flickering. Maybe.

But I cannot think like that. It hurts too much.

I need you, Dean. I need you in the way I need air in my lungs. I need the warmth of your body, I need your embrace and most of all, I need you for the way you see me, almost like you can see my soul, like it’s just a pendant, a trickery that you wear around your neck. You see me. You can bring me to my knees with just one touch, yet you choose to love me, respect me and cherish me. Dean, you are a beautiful soul in that way. You love and protect those you love and you will stop at nothing to keep them safe, even if it does hurt you in the process. You are so strong, Dean. Even when you’re breaking inside, you are strong for those around you.

I’m not doing this because of you. I need you to know that. I’m doing it because of me. I wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. You know it and I know it. I cannot live in a constant fear for your life, I cannot stare at my phone for hours expecting your call to tell me that you are alright or fight the nauseous feeling when you are even ten minutes late. But, I could never ask you to leave it for me. Never. You still love it to some extent. And you save lives of so many people, who am I to ask you to quit and to leave them to their horrible destinies when they can be saved? I am not willing to carry that sort of moral culpability on my soul. But, I can wait. I can wait, but not for forever, Dean. I want you to think about this, can you see yourself ever leaving this type of life? Because if you can, I will wait for you, but if you cannot you have to tell me so I can go on with my life.

I love you, Dean.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

Dean folded the paper. His head was already pulsating. No. This is not happening. Not now. Deans head sank into his hands, half covering his eyes, half twisted in his hair.

„Hey, Dean, I…“ Sams voice trailed off as he scanned the room, his look falling on Dean. „What’s going on? Where’s Y/N?“

„She’s gone, Sam. She’s gone.“ Dean said standing up and storming off past Sam into the common area to find the only thing that never left him. Whiskey.


	2. Chapter 2

You lay in your bed. It’s 3AM. Your breathing is steady. You try to sleep but the sleep is not coming. You feel an ugly stirring in your stomach, one that has been with you since the moment you left, one that is a constant reminder of something missing. The darkness around you almost feels heavy, you pray for sleep but the sleep is not coming. You feel your throat aching and feel once again hot tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes, slowly falling behind your neck leaving a unpleasant watery trail. You let out a small whimper, inhaling quietly, sobbing. You know what’s missing. Oh, you know very well. It’s not the bed that’s uncomfortable, it’s the feeling of being alone, of not having his arms around you while you sleep, of not hearing the slow beating of his heart to lull you into sleep.

It’s been months since you left. Months of not being able to touch him. Months of not hearing his laugh or being scooped into his arms like you don’t weight more than a feather or not being kissed on cheek while you cook for him. It’s also been month since you had any sort of a normal sleeping schedule, falling asleep is either a complex and long process or just letting exhaustion knock you out. But not everything is dark. The business is booming. You have long been moved from training to administration, but administration proved to be a good place for you, while boring, yes, there was an unbelievable amount of work to be done, which kept your thoughts occupied enough to not think about Dean. But, the nights were always the worse. Your thoughts kept going to him and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Was he safe? Tonight was a particularly bad night, because other than the, now normal, feeling of loneliness, you were also scared. You couldn’t be one hundred percent sure but you had a feeling like somebody was following you. You kept seeing the same car in your rear view mirror. Normally you wouldn’t think twice about it but since you met Dean a whole lot has changed.

You wondered if you should call. Dean would want you to call if you thought you were in trouble, a thought formed in your mind. You reached out to grab your phone on the nightstand and turned on the small lamp. The light was dim enough not to hurt your eyes but it was a pleasant change from the darkness. You pulled yourself up to sit, curling one of your legs slightly under the other. You unlocked your phone and clicked on Deans name. You stared at it. What would you say? How do you start talking? Do you ask him how he was? Where he’s been? You haven’t talked in months, not since…. since you left him by leaving a letter on his bed. You felt awful about it, you really did. But it was the only way you could do it. It was cruel, you knew it was and cowardly. You were a coward that day, yes, you admitted that to yourself a long time ago. Dean deserved better. He deserved to be left in person, at the very least. But, you didn’t know what else to do, you could never bring yourself around to actually say those words, you loved him too much, writing them down was easier, it was the easy way out. An easy way out of a unbelievable situation. You loved him. You still love him. You never stopped loving him. But it was just too much, all of it. The mere idea of him dying while on a hunt terrified you.

You still remembered the time he told you that he was actually a hunter. That angels, demons, the monster under the bed… that they were all real. You thought he’s gone mad, you laughed thinking he was playing tricks on you, but he was dead serious. He showed you their arsenal of weapons, the secret rooms of the bunker and to seal the deal, introduced you to an angel, Castiel. Sam confirmed everything. Thinking about it now, you took it pretty well. But that was probably because above all else you cared about Dean, you loved him, and the look in his eyes, while he told you all of it, like he expected you to be disgusted and run in the opposite direction, made you insides hurt.  
„And yeah. Monsters are _very_ real.“ Dean said and let out a sigh of defeat.

You looked at his form. He was leaning toward you, hands cupping each other, his head bowed down, like he was bracing for the inevitable, you were going to run away screaming any time now. You couldn’t stand seeing him like that, it was wrong. How could someone so strong, tall and confident all of a sudden appear to look so small? You smiled a little, gazing sympathetically at him and reaching out to take his hands. Your hands look small compared to his, his fingers felt rough of old callouses under your touch.

„Hey, look at me.“ - you said, voice barely above whisper. He obliged, looking up and you felt your heart skip a beat when his green eyes met yours, a warm feeling spreading inside your chest.  
„This doesn’t change anything.“ - you said smiling at him. „Well, I mean, it changes everything, but” – you said putting emphasis on the but – “it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, Dean.“ – you added simply.

He smiled and you wanted nothing more than for him to smile forever. Dean pulled your hands up slightly and put a light kiss on your knuckles, leaned in and kissed you deeply.

_You decide to call._


	3. Chapter 3

_You don't call._

Months pass and you move on.

And then one day on your way to work, you're leaving your favourite coffee shop, favourite latte in hand, thinking about all the work you have to do today. You look to the left, more out of habit than to look at anything in particular and there he is.

You haven't seen him in a very long time. About three years, to be exact. And there he is, standing there, smiling, like nothing happened, like he didn't fight monsters on a almost daily basis. Which, now, all these years later still sounds as bizarre as it did back then. Only he's not smiling at you. He's smiling at someone else. Your stomach drops and you grip the coffee probably with more force than you should.

'Well, it's nice to see he moved on so nicely.' You think grimly and you know you're not being fair because you want that for him, you want him to smile, to be happy. And, it's not like you haven't moved on, there's been other people in the past three years, some who meant more and some less but the fact is that there have been. But moving on while he was God knows where, playing cops and robbers with his brother was different from seeing him not ten feet away from you, it was easier when you couldn't see him obviously flirt with someone else or not see him at all for that matter.

You decide to just barrel through it and go past him, hoping he won't notice you. (You're really glad your hair looks good today.)

You're steeling yourself to only look straight ahead as you walk and not to throw a quick sideways glance to him. You've just passed his table, when all of a sudden you hear him calling your name.

„Y/N?“

You stop dead in your tracks. He sounds the same, his voice is still so familiarly gruffy and deep. You wonder for a moment whether to turn around or just run away.

You turn around.

„Hello, Dean.“ It's all you can muster at the moment. He's looking at you and his features are lined with complete shock. You stand there for a few long moments not saying anything, just looking at each other. He hasn't changed much, he still, under the ruggedly handsome thing he does, looks tired. You feel a pinge of sadness because you know nothing changed in the past three years.

The person Dean is with coughs and suddenly both of you realize where you are.

„Y/N... What are you doing here?“ Dean asks, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment.

„I... work here“ you point vaguely at the building behind you. „And speaking off, I should go.“ You say and turn around, walking away as fast as you can without actually running, not bothering to stop when he calls your name, pretending it got lost in the noise of the street.

You disappear into the lobby of the building and into the first broom closet you know is empty. You close the door, rasping for breath, trying to breathe deeper, your hands trembling. Moving on, you think, trying to forget the sound of his voice and the colour of his eyes, all that progress, and he just waltzes in and stomps it to the ground. It's like day one, all over again. You remind yourself not to cry because you have shed enough of them on his account and that it was his choice, his decisions that led you here. He told you that he wish he could leave the life, settle down and you believed him, you wanted him to, but not for you, for himself, because the life was killing him. And yet, as much as he talked about wanting to leave the hunting behind, you knew deep down that it was just talk, that he couldn't just leave it. He couldn't because he couldn't leave Sam behind and two Winchesters in one place? That's just drawing attention. So, you decided that you have had enough of waiting - waiting for him to leave, waiting for him to get himself killed – and you left.

A soft knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts. You quickly straighten your clothes and check yourself in the small mirror on the wall for any smudges of make-up. You reach for the door handle, wanting to just get to your office as soon as possible, as soon as you pull open the door you regret it.

„Three years I don't see you and now I finally do and you run away from me.“


	4. Chapter 4

It feels as though your body recognizes him even before your brain has time to process the information. You feel the pull to go to him, to hold, to cherish, like he always does to you, pulling you into his orbit, he always had that effect on you. 

Finally, you come to your senses and it feels like you finally see him. The tall, slenderness of his body, the strong jaw and the face of an angel. You can practically feel the way his skin felt under your fingertips, you can feel the warmth of his skin, every little inch; every tender scar scattered along his beautiful skin, all remnants, remainders of a wrecked life. And with that you remember everything. You remember all those nights, when he would wake up from his nightmares, gasping for air, tears rushing down his face, shaking. How you would have to tell him it was only a nightmare, that he was dreaming, that it's okay over and over again and he would just pull you closer and hold you tighter, face buried in your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. As though you were not real and not holding you would make you disappear. How then he would just let you hold him, how you would whisper how much you loved him into his ear until sleep took you both again. How he would let you kiss his scars as though somehow it could heal him. You have traced your fingers over each one so many times you knew them by heart.

You look at him now, standing in front of you. Face dark, the underlying paleness and tinted circles under his eyes giving away that he hasn't been sleeping well, for God knows how long. His shoulders tense. 

And he’s looking at you in the same way, like he’s remembering. It’s been so long. The look gives away too much and you wonder how could you have ever left, how could you have let this happen; but then seconds later and it's gone, replaced by his usual stoicness, ever lasting smirk on his face, giving away no real feelings. Dean Winchester, the perfect little soldier. And it hits you like a ton of bricks, suddenly you remember why.

You and Dean were a couple for a long time and most of the time it was beautiful. He was easy to love. He is a good man. The fact that he was often away made it harder for you two because you couldn't see each other as much as you wanted, you were far from a conventional couple. To an extent, it only made you miss each other more and taught you how to spend the time you had together wisely. However, like any other couple every now and again, you would fight. While your fights were quite rare, they were also vicious, primarily because of what Dean and Sam did. It took a lot more toll on Dean than it did on his younger brother. But, unlike Sam, Dean didn’t know how to deal with it all other than to internalize everything and when things got particularly bad he was basically a ticking time bomb. 

Usually, he would go off on Sam or on a hunting trip when it was borderline useful but sometimes he would go off at you. And since you always hated what he did because of the way you knew it made him feel, you would get pissed at him, at his so-called job, at his father for letting him get this way. The more pissed off you got, the more you would bring up the cause of it all – his utter inability to just talk, to confide in people who love him, to just let it all go. And like with the pattern, he would storm off and you would always seek him out, always wait for him, until you didn’t. Until one day you left.

After everything that happened between you two, here you were. Standing in the doorway of a broom closet you were hiding in. It was so childish.

“I wasn’t hiding.” You speak, finally.

“You practically ran away after you saw me and now I find you in a broom closet.”

“What do you want, Dean?” you sigh in resignation.

“Do you really have to ask?” Dean says, so simply but there is something in his eyes, in his posture that just breaks your heart.

You wonder for a moment, blink once and you know that you’re gone. No turning back now, you always had a soft spot for him.

“Uh, I do suppose we should talk.”  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you like it! :D


End file.
